


when we allow ourselves to dream

by asexuelf



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cats, Danarius (Dragon Age) Being an Asshole, Families of Choice, Fluff, Happy, Happy Anders (Dragon Age), Happy Fenris (Dragon Age), M/M, Modern Thedas, Multiplicity/Plurality, Reminiscing, Sleepiness, Trans Character, Trans Fenris (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 12:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20835557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Anders comes home to Fenris and the kitties after a long day of work.





	when we allow ourselves to dream

**Author's Note:**

> things have been Rough lately so here's a happy ending... and this really is just a happy ending! absolute fluff of a snapshot that i wrote when feeling hopeful :3
> 
> hope you enjoy!

It was a horribly long day at the clinic, but finally, _ finally, _ it's over. Anders stayed past his shift, as always, like an absolute fool, and his aching body (from his head to his feet) is good at convincing him to keep it easy next time. At least, it will be, up until his next shift actually comes around and he works himself near to death again.

Anders rubs at his eyes, unable to soothe the pain just behind them, and sighs. Better he go than a patient, right? If the people of Darktown need him, then he (and Justice) shall be there. Tonight, draining as it was, they'd needed him.

The keys in his hand jingle both annoyingly and comfortingly. At least he's home.

At his boyfriend's place, anyways. Being a Hightown apartment, Fenris' place is much nicer than his own, with actual air conditioning and electricity that always works instead of just sometimes. The real winning feature, however, has to be the elf that greets Anders with kisses when he comes by. And he comes by often - after so many years, he often finds himself living in Fenris' home more than his own.

It's nearly three in the morning though, so Anders isn't expecting anyone to come running for smooches when he opens the door. Fenris has an odd sleep schedule, occasionally kept awake by paranoia or memories, but he's rarely personable past 1 A.M.

When Anders steps inside, he's surprised to find the lights still on. It's possible that Fenris fell asleep without turning them off (he's done it often), but it's also possible that something is wrong. Personable or not, the paranoia that haunts him means Fenris prefers to keep the lights off at night.

Stomach turning and heart pumping, Anders hurries to tear his boots off. Fenris' one rule is _ no shoes on the carpet _ \- even if he's bleeding out from a gunshot wound right now, he'd be more distressed at Anders tracking Darktown grime on his carpet. Soon as they're off his feet, Anders sprints through the apartment. 

_ Is it Danarius?, _ some part of him wonders. The old man hasn't bothered Fenris himself in a long time, but someone like that doesn't just _ go away _ after stalking someone for three years post-breakup… Especially considering the _ special circumstances _of said breakup. The last they'd heard of him, he'd been trying to scare Fenris' sister into staging a meet up. Nothing violent, just attempts at bribing her, schmoozing her into giving him a night with Fenris. A few thinly veiled threats to her career. Aveline hadn't been able to do anything about it and, frightened of Danarius visiting her again, Varania had stayed in the apartment for a little while. That was more than half a year ago now.

In the present, everything is just fine. Anders breathes a sigh of relief to see his lover in his bedroom, completely free of bleeding wounds (or worse).

He's lying on the bed almost fetaly, body relaxed as it curls like a fence around an amorphous black shape Anders knows to be three kittens. 

The couple found the kittens curled against the cooling body of their mother in an alley a few months ago, mewling in hunger and despair… Anders still remembers the way Fenris' face looked. Despite all the elf has been through, it's rare to see that kind of raw devastation take his features. It had been followed by something sure and resolute, and Anders had watched in shock as Fenris picked up each kitten gingerly to hold in his shirt.

_ "Do you have any idea how to feed them?" Fenris looks up from the dark wiggling shape the kittens had formed to stare hard into Anders' eyes. _

_ Anders thinks for a moment, but draws a blank. He knows cats can have cream from his experiences with Mr. Wiggums and Ser Pounce-a-Lot, as well as certain bits of fish, but these are kittens - and obviously far too young to be weaned yet. They're so small… _

_ Fenris nods, despite his lover's silence, and turns away. "We will do what we can. Surely, there's a formula we can buy…" _

They hadn't gone to the cinema like they'd planned. They'd taken the kittens straight out of that Lowtown alley and to a local vet.

They're Fenris' cats, really, for as much as Anders loves them. Fenris does everything for them - and small wonder. Despite what he claims about being a lone wolf, Fenris finds his healing in similar ways as Anders; in healing other people. In caring for another and by proxy, himself. These cats are his babies, but if it hadn't been for the dark lines that still haunted his face so soon after dealing with Varania's Danarius run-in, they might not have been.

At least, two of them might not have been.

Anders shuffles closer to peek into the circle of Fenris' arms. The black shape breaks into smaller ones as he focuses, eyes adjusting to the strange lighting of Fenris' bedroom.

Miss Spaghetti, who has a long face and thin frame and loves to get into things, licks at Fenris' tattooed fingers. Opera, who has pale toe beans and a scar on his ear and a meow that is hilariously melodic, tries to distract his sister from her task with little luck. And of course Hamster, who is very small and fat and loves to run around at top speed, is trying to run circles around them both.

They're all male cats, but Fenris is very insistent that Spaghetti is a girl. 

_ "Just look at her face," Fenris is holding her up with one hand, showing off Miss Spaghetti in all her glory. Her eyes are wide and yellow and she mews in token protest. "Look into her eyes and you will know her as I do." _

Anders had looked, but all he saw was the very adorable face of a very stupid kitten. He might have playfully argued the point, but gender-policing a man's cat seemed like a weird hill to die on, even as a joke. And Fenris _ does _ seem to have a sixth sense about that cat - for all Anders knows, Spaghetti is a proper young noblewoman among cats, perhaps even an heiress or princess of sorts. Princess Spaghetti.

The way he treats her, Anders is sure Fenris would agree.

The elf seems to have the closest attachment to her of all three; eventually, he'll be forced to find homes for the cats (before his landlord discovers he's housing them, hopefully), but Anders knows he won't be rid of Miss Spaghetti. It would break his heart to lose that cat. 

Anders strips down to his underwear - a rare pair of briefs that say _ public menace _ on the rear - and climbs in behind Fenris in a spoon.

Fenris hums and grumbles something that sounds like, "Wait fo' shoe." Anders thinks that means Fenris stayed awake waiting for him to come home. The evidence of how late Anders is shows itself in Fenris' face. He looks only barely awake, eyes fluttering shut only to peel back open to gaze blearily at the cats. If it wasn't for the fear of them tumbling off the bed, Fenris would likely be out like a stone, boyfriend or no boyfriend.

The kittens too are fighting off bedtime - Opera has abandoned harassing Spaghetti and seems ready to snooze, but his brother and sister keep bumping him awake with their feeble attempts at playing. Anders has a hard time feeling bad for him, considering he was the one who riled them up. Smiling, Anders reaches his arm around and strokes them. They're so small, he doesn't even have to take turns. He can catch them all in one fell swoop, smoothing down their soft dark fur.

Opera, tired and frustrated, begins to sing, mewling pathetically. This is enough to wake Fenris from his light doze and he jumps, suddenly alert.

"What's wrong?" he coos quietly.

Anders laughs. "He's being bullied by his mean twins. They won't let him sleep."

Fenris turns to him, looking surprised. His face is sleep-touched and adorable, his usually neat hair unkempt and bed-tousled. His cute expression is so kissable - Anders can't help but peck his flat nose.

Fenris wrinkles his nose, but purses his lips unconsciously, like he wants more kisses. "When did you get here? I've been waiting for you." He sniffs. "Worried."

"I only got back just a moment ago. Late ass day, had a few impromptu surgeries… Lowtown's seeing more gang activity, me thinks." He licks his lips and looks back to the hall. "All your lights are on still. Worried, too."

Bright green eyes survey the room curiously. "So they are." He doesn't sound particularly shocked. "Care to turn them off? And nightlight please."

"Of course, love." With a parting kiss, Anders is off and in the apartment proper again, flicking off the kitchenette light and hall light on his way.

He hesitates in the living room. There are new pictures up. Despite his secret life as a deeply sentimental man, Fenris very rarely puts up pictures - perhaps Merrill or Isabela were over for a visit? Merrill loves photographs.

There are a few new photos. One is of Fenris and Anders that was taken on their anniversary about two and a half years ago, badly lit but bright in emotion. All the faces in it are smiling - the happy couple especially, but behind them is Varric, too, grinning at a cropped off Hawke, as well as a vacant looking Sebastian. He seems to have been looking anywhere but the camera. Anders can't help but laugh. What a lovely photograph! It's hung up on the wall with a couple of Fenris' other favorites and Anders approves.

It had been a simple affair, just a night out with friends at their usual haunt, but that had been what made it so great.

_ "To a year with my new favorite git," Anders teases, raising his can of cola. "It's been a damn good year, Fenris. Ready for me to bugger it up?" _

_ "Only if you bugger me next." Fenris clinked his wine glass to Anders' can with a smirk. "We've made it this far and no one's even died yet. Cheers." _

_ "Relationship: success!" _

Wine had come out Fenris' nose at the same time ale did Varric's. It had been an awful, beautiful, kind of hilarious mess of a night.

The next new photo is on the shelf beside some of Fenris' history books, wedged almost hidden beside _ A Slave's Life _ and _ Marching To Victory: The Fight Against Orlesian Oppression_. It's a very old picture, dated in 9:12 in the corner, and shows two children - twins, Anders remembers. Varania always seems both older and younger, somehow, so he tends to forget they're the same age, but this picture books no argument against it. The stern-looking girl is nearly identical to the wide-eyed little Fenris beside her, both wearing pigtails, both unsmiling. They stand side-by-side and look into the camera almost dismally, like they aren't sure they should be. Beside it is another picture, this one horizontal, of Varania and Fenris playing in a field of purple and yellow flowers. They're too far away from the camera to see their faces.

These pictures make Anders feel an ache of sympathy in his chest. His childhood was cut short, but at least he had one. Fenris deserves a childhood. Even Varania does, humorless as she is. The fact that their mother must have taken these pictures does not occur to him.

The final picture is of their entire family - and it is the _ entire _ family. It's a shock that Anders can even see everyone in it, it's such a huge group! Hawke's entire family, including Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana are on the left side. Varric and Bartrand and their cousin Maevaris and her dear friend Dorian are beside them. Merrill and the few clanmates she has left are nearer to the right, pressed close together. Anders and his Wardenfam all stand behind her, sans Oghren, who stands in front. Aveline and her husband and his sister are on the far right. Isabela, her friend (?) with the tattoos and blond hair, and all of _ his _ Wardenfam are doing the Sorority squat to all fit near the front, some owning it more than others. And then Fenris, grinning larger than Anders had ever seen him smile around other people, is centered dead in the middle, with an arm locked with Sebastian and the other arm around his sister.

The picture isn't actually situated yet. It's lying down on the coffee table, only just placed into a frame that still has a price tag on it. _ Twelve silver _ for a picture frame… Outrageous, he thinks, but the photograph is lovely and honestly might deserve it. Beneath the frame are many copies of it in a few more sizes - it's obvious this is Fenris' favorite of the bunch. It makes sense he'd splurge a little.

Anders can't help but smile.

He turns the lights off as he leaves and circles back to the bathroom. He rummages through the medicine cabinet for a bit to take something for his headache, then has a quick pee. When he's finished washing up, he turns the light back out and sludges back to Fenris.

He and all the kittens are fast asleep.

Anders takes a moment to gaze at the slow-breathing lumps on the bed, thinking not for the first time, _ How did I get so lucky? _ After Karl, he thought that was it. He was finished, it was over, he would never love again. When Karl died, so had he. But then Hawke showed up, _ and Fenris showed up_, and they breathed new life into him.

Justice wraps their arms around themselves, hugging Anders the only way he can. He doesn't speak, but Anders knows what he's saying. _ I'm happy too. _

He feels a little silly, being held by his headmate while wearing underpants in a brightly lit room in the middle of the night, but it's a very good silly. The moment passes but doesn't end, and Anders reaches over the dresser to plug in the nightlight before turning off the overhead light.

When he curls up behind Fenris for the second time that night, he tucks his nose into the tattoos at the back of his boyfriend's neck, smiles against his skin, and is free. When he dreams, he finds himself in a field of purple and yellow flowers, two feet shorter and chasing a laughing child with dark pigtails.

It's a very good dream.

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title was: this cat is trans and there's nothing you can do about it akdjskf
> 
> thank you for reading !! 💓


End file.
